


The Castle by the Sea

by wastelandfrenzy



Category: Nancy Drew (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, Explicit Language, F/M, Ireland, Romance, The Haunting of Castle Malloy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 08:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18117254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wastelandfrenzy/pseuds/wastelandfrenzy
Summary: In her family's abandoned seaside castle, Kyler struggles with unresolved feelings as her wedding date approaches.





	The Castle by the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> this one's been sitting in my WIP folder for a whiiiile so I decided to polish it up and post it finally.  
> Nancy is only in this story briefly, as this mainly focuses on events before and after the game. includes some canon dialogue in about two or three scenes but I tried not to put too much in there because I figure we've already played the game and want a new angle on things.  
> And I realize Matt's character isn't as much of a jerk in the actual game, I was just having a bit of fun with this.

* * *

 

DAY ONE  
Kit Foley loosened his tie and stretched out across the cot. The pressed collar of his shirt had lost its crispness during the flight over and he suspected that his carefully styled hair had suffered a similar fate. The rest of the wedding party looked equally disheveled, but the fresh air and breathtaking sights seemed enough to revitalize them all somewhat.

He’d arrived in Ireland earlier that afternoon, having flown in from London with bride and groom Kyler Mallory and Matt Simmons, along with the best man, Alan Paine. Kyler was absolutely ecstatic to show off her newly inherited property. Twenty acres stretching across Bailor; rolling fields on the cliffside, crashing waves below, a weary stone keep settled in the mist.

Castle Malloy really was an agreeable place to get married in, anybody would say so. It had suffered architectural damage from an old accident, but the remaining rooms were stunning, much of the original furnishings intact. Sure, the massive chunk taken out of the Great Hall from an explosion ripping through it back in 1944 was a bit of a downer. And yes, many frigid gusts of wind now blew through, rustling the tattered remnants of old tapestries still pinned to the crumbling stone. However, it had not lost its idyllic charm, what with its overgrown greenery and authentic seventeenth-century architecture. You could practically hear the freaking Gaelic flute music wafting through the hall, Kit thought disgustedly.

The fire in the hearth burned high and efficient. It was directly opposite of the great castle doors that led into the hall. The dining table sat at the left of the room, directly in front of the missing wall. Missing was not an exaggeration; the wall was, quite literally, _gone_ , leaving them a near unimpeded view of the garden outside and the tangles of wildflowers spilling over the low stone wall like foam. The stairs leading up to the second and only other accessible floor were to to the right, and it was between here and the massive hearth that a number of cots had been assembled in anticipation of the wedding guests' arrival. The air was brisk, especially at night, but the fire would do a fine job even with the enormous hole. The bride could hardly contain her excitement at having such a fine new piece of land to explore, not to mention the castle library, bookshelves stuffed with her old family history.

Kit had spent far too much time at the office this year, and was glad to trade in squeaky desk chairs and ergonomic safety wall posters under fluorescent lights for the fresh sea air wafting in through the opening in the hall.

“I’m positively famished,” Alan complained, sticking his hands out in front of the roaring fire. “From where are we expected to get our meals? I can’t imagine what Kyler was thinking, dragging us to this dilapidated heap with no working facilities rather than a decent hotel.”

Kit rolled his eyes. For a writer, this guy had zero imagination. Without a romantic bone in his entire body, the splendid seaside views had done nothing for the fair-haired Alan Paine, and he had instead been accumulating a list of shortcomings against the chosen venue ever since their arrival.

The caretaker, Donal Delany, snorted audibly in displeasure at Mr. Paine’s ungracious remarks. “The facilities work right as rain. Castle Malloy has stood tall and proud for centuries. I’m bettin’ the likes of _you_ wouldn’t be half so grand after a fraction o’ the time,” he sniffed. Donal stood near the large entryway, leaning heavily onto a weather-beaten cane in his left hand. Donal Delany rather resembled the castle in that they were both advanced in age and maintained a proud kind of air about them. “Supper’ll be served down the road at the Screaming Banshee inn. I’ll escort ya soon as Miss Kyler and the Simmons boy come downstairs.”

Clearly Alan Paine didn’t hold very high hopes for an establishment titled as such, if the way he wrinkled his nose was any indication of his feelings, but he said nothing in response as he continued to warm his fingers next to the crackling flames. He wasn’t a very large man and stood nearly a foot shorter than both Kit and Matt. Alan kept his face clean-shaven, metal-framed glasses perched neatly on the bridge of his nose. He wore suits in earth tones—lots of tans and sandy colors. This led him to look extremely monochromatic, what with his already sandy hair (clipped sensibly close to his head, of course.)

Though Kit was Matt’s best friend, Matt had explained how asking his boss, this man Alan Paine, to be his best man would put him in good standing at the magazine he worked at and Kit had gone amiably through the motions. _Oh, sure, no problem, buddy._ The work politics may have been true, but both Matt and Kit knew the real unspoken reason that Kit would not be standing up as the best man. And that reason was gliding down the stairs now with the air of anticipation that only a soon-to-be bride can possess.

“Ah!” Donal exclaimed, pleased at Kyler’s arrival. “I take it you’re set to head to the inn, then?”

“Lead the way." She gave a dazzling smile.

 

* * *

  
The Screaming Banshee Inn was quaintly situated at the end of the road. Carefully handcrafted stone walls, creeping ivy, stained glass, the works. Matt and Kyler looked as pretty as a picture in the yellow glow emanating through the front windows as they approached. Well, Kyler did, anyway.

“I absolutely must make a call,” Alan exclaimed as he strode purposefully toward the lit-up phone booth.

Any sort of cell reception out here proved either dismal or nonexistent. Kit’s work cell picked up all right, but only because it was satellite. He worked in real estate, so while he had plenty to work on during his vacation, none of it required frequent communication with the office.

A gust of heat washed over the party as they crossed the threshold of the inn. Despite the fact that they were approaching summer, this Irish countryside dealt cool breezes from the sea all night and without the sun it felt chilly. Along with the heat came the wave of chatter. Most of the tables were filled and the inhabitants appeared quite drunk and jolly.

“I say,” Matt heaved upon entering the inn. “They’ve got darts! Play me a match.”

“Oh, can’t we order our food first? We haven’t eaten since before the flight,” said Kyler.

Matt examined the strange token slot on the darts machine and was immediately distracted by the sight of musical instruments sitting on a raised platform at the head of the bar. Kit had known Matt for twelve years and knew that the man's attention span settled in the range between goldfish and golden retriever. Broad-shouldered and with a wide stance, Matt could look intimidating at first glance, his square jaw and thick fingers reminiscent of a high school bully. Despite this, he possessed a charismatic energy that often drew strangers to him, always making friends wherever he went.  

“Brilliant! Check out this bodhrán, Kyler. What’s this little mallet called again?” He tapped the drum experimentally.

“I’m running to the loo, be back in a flash,” Kyler informed Matt, giving up her efforts to corral him to a table.

Donal possessed no intentions of dining with them or further continuing his role of host and headed straight for the innkeeper, letting loose a wicked torrent of gossip.

Kit lowered himself into a seat just as Alan Paine came inside from his phone call. “Well, well, let’s see what this place has to eat,” he said loudly, settling into a menu.

Matt finally seated himself next to Kit. “This place looks right decent,” he remarked.

“Yeah, we’re living out the dream of the travel brochure, all right,” Kit said, motioning the innkeeper over to them. His name turned out to be Seamus. He had a round frame underneath his stained apron and spoke in a mild and easygoing manner, as if he were trying to calm a frightened horse.

“We’re missing Kyler,” Alan cried, dismayed.

“She won't mind if we order without her," Matt said. "Irish coffees all round. And two shepherd’s pies right here for me and the lady."

After they all finished ordering, Alan immediately delved into a work discussion. "Now, Matt, I've been dying to discuss those surveys you used in features—"

Kit took the opportunity to flag down Seamus before he disappeared into the kitchen. “Do those pies they ordered come with cheese on top, by any chance?” he asked.

“Aye.”

“Better make one of those without.”

Their drinks came quickly, and Kyler returned to the table shortly afterward.

“Mmm, this is just what I need,” she said appreciatively, wrapping her fingers around the warm mug.

“Watch out, these coffees come with a kick,” Kit said to her, taking a healthy swig of his own.

“I daresay I could use one after all the traveling.” She made a grimace as she lowered her mug. “Strong.”

“Well, drink up! We’ve a worthy celebration,” Matt said before he was pulled back into Alan’s tide of conversation regarding article deadlines.

By the time their food arrived Kit was working on his second drink and starting to feel a content little fire warming the base of his stomach from the whiskey. So far there hadn’t been much conversation directed toward him and he’d had nothing to contribute to Matt and Alan’s work at their magazine, so it had been a quiet evening for him. Kyler was in much of the same boat and leaned her head politely in her hand and nodded occasionally at Alan’s long-winded speeches. Only when her food was deposited in front of her did she snap back to attention.

“Oh, you remembered about the cheese,” Kyler exclaimed, clutching Matt's arm as he lifted a forkful of potatoes.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, of course, sweetie,” Matt said distractedly, eyes on his plate in front of him as he nodded enthusiastically during Alan’s intervals.

Kit snorted unattractively into his mug and preemptively ordered himself another drink.

 

* * *

  
Stretched out once again on his cot in the dining hall, Kit heard her footsteps before he actually saw her descending the stairs.

“Oh.” Kyler looked surprised to see him awake. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Once they’d hiked back from the inn Alan proceeded to complain loudly about the draft in the hall so naturally Kit claimed the cot closest to the toasty fire. The aforementioned best man now snored softly in the corner. Kit shrugged, looking down at his sketches. “I'm not busy."

She still hovered near the stairs. Matt would no longer be staying in the dining hall, he’d informed them politely after dinner. After Donal’s extremely colorful renditions of the hauntings in the upstairs nursery, Matt declared that that was the very room he meant to sleep in. The result had no doubt been exactly what Matt intended. Donal’s gnarled fingers tightened on his cane and his face turned an impressive shade of magenta. Donal expressed his clear dislike of Matt from the moment they set foot in the castle, and had thus affixed himself with a target, Matt being so fond of cajoling and pranks. The antagonistic relationship between the two was likely to escalate.

With Kyler holed up in the library with her ancestor's books, that left Kit to be the lucky, lucky roommate of Alan Paine.

“D’you need your luggage or something? Your blankets?” Kit asked her. Now she finally inched away from the stairs, toward the warmth of the fire.

“Er, yes, actually. I figured I’d just stay in the library since Donal left the fire going for me.”

He nodded and set down his pen. “How’s the family history coming along?”

“Quite well!” Her face lit up as she began to recall the writings of her Uncle Brendan to him. Alan muttered unintelligibly in his sleep and rolled over on his cot. Kyler moved closer yet and lowered her voice. “It’s fortunate that the journals and literature are still salvageable. The chemical explosion that knocked out that wall over there took all three of the family members with it. Both parents and their little girl. The regarding circumstances are fishy, though, to say the least. From what I’ve been reading, Brendan Malloy had a hidden laboratory where he developed his fuel, yet it was his false lab on the left side of the castle that blew. It was only meant to be a decoy lab so that he could conceal his true work. No doubt the real one is caved in and blocked off since the forties.”

Whether it was the heat from the flames or passion for the subject on which she spoke, twin spots of color had risen in Kyler’s cheeks.

“Who knows? Maybe you’ll find more than you expected if you keep searching. There’s definitely more to this old place than meets the eye,” he said, glancing around the hall.

When she spoke again, it was in a far more reserved tone. “I meant to thank you. Earlier. So, thanks.” She sounded embarrassed; her words carried a heavy weight.

Thanks for what? Kit thought. For introducing her to her supposed “soulmate”? For agreeing to stay friends after their breakup even though it killed him inside to see Kyler try to start a life with one of his best friends? For not causing a scene at the cream-colored A5 cardstock that arrived in his mail cheerfully requesting his presence at the veritable nightmare of his own creation?

Something strange must have passed across his face while he thought this because Kyler hastily tacked on a clarification to the end of her sentence. “For volunteering to fly out early, I mean. Especially with, well—” she broke off and gestured painstakingly to Mr. Alan Paine, snoozing away in the corner.

“Of course,” he said. She had to know by now that there were few things Kit wouldn’t tolerate if it meant keeping her happy. Didn’t she?

Her eyes were green and bright. They betrayed everything and yet nothing to Kit. He knew her so well, but she was just out of reach. She’d taken that one step where he couldn’t follow, and he had no one to blame but himself.

When he rose from his cot Kyler looked startled, like he’d broken an unspoken rule. Crossing the short expanse between them, he deposited the blanket she’d come down for into her arms. It was her thickest one—olive-colored wool expertly knitted. She’d bought it just after she came back from studying abroad in the States. Said the mild weather had made her soft and she could barely stand to be in her own flat again without freezing. Kit had been there.

_“Ain’t no way you’ll get cold with me here,” he’d said to her, flopping heavily onto her sofa._

_“Ugh, you sound positively vulgar when you speak like that."_

_“I_ know _, isn’t it just sickening how much you love it?”_

_“Oh, you wish.”_

_He pulled her down onto the sofa on top of him, wrapping her snugly in the green blanket. “Hey, I get it, you’re a well-bred Englishwoman and you don’t want it getting out that you harbor such esteem for an uncivilized Yank. We all have our guilty pleasures, though,” he’d said with a wink and laughter spilled out of her despite her attempt to stifle it._

She was too flustered to say goodnight, turning and retreating back up the stone steps to the library, arms wrapped around the blanket.

Kit rubbed his hand over his tired face. Was he so pathetically lonely and desperate-looking that she could barely be alone with him for five minutes? Convinced he’d have no more visitors for the rest of the night, he unbuttoned his shirt and draped it over the folded table that his electric lantern rested on. It was chilly in his undershirt and he settled back onto his cot and kicked his shoes off.

If Kyler felt uncomfortable being alone with him, he thought scathingly, then she shouldn’t have invited him to her tiny, intimate wedding. How was he supposed to blend in with all of ten damn guests? He felt a twinge of guilt. Kit knew how painfully shy Kyler was. She wasn’t the best at making new friends, and wouldn’t exactly have had a lengthy list of people to invite.

Just look at who she’d chosen for her maid of honor. He was sure they’d had a grand old time in River's Height or wherever the hell she’d spent her time abroad in the States and that Kyler had been perfectly charmed by the quaint small-town lifestyle, but she and this girl Nancy hadn’t exactly remained "bosom buddies" in the four years since they’d last seen each other. Kit knew that Kyler sent emails back and forth with her sometimes, but living in different countries tended to put a damper on a friendship. Still, Kyler had felt close enough to her to name her maid of honor.

Back when they’d been dating, whenever Kyler accompanied him to his executive office functions, she’d rescinded into her shell with the celerity a turtle would envy, practically folding in on herself. She always grew detached. Her words were polite and acceptable, but her tone held no warmth and gave no welcome to pursue the exchange further. Kit knew better; it was a defense mechanism when she was nervous. Put her in a small group and she became a different woman, her solemnity and distant composure segueing neatly into engaging conversation and receptiveness.

It was one of the countless things Kit loved about her. She had layers, depth, mystery—not everything you saw was what you got. Kyler had mastered the art of subtlety, and it was all Kit could do to keep up. She was hard to warm up to, and even harder to get to know. And he loved her for all of it.

 

* * *

  
DAY TWO  
The next morning at The Screaming Banshee held more of the same torture. Kit ordered another one of those spiked coffees to go along with his enormous breakfast plate. It was going down quite nicely, despite Matt and Kyler bickering across the table. Nothing like a strong buzz at nine in the morning to drown out any surrounding unpleasantness.

Alan had thankfully retreated to the phone booth outside once again. Kyler’s maid of honor was supposed to be arriving one of these days and Kit welcomed the idea of a much-needed fifth person to rustle up the monotony. The more guests that arrived, the less he’d have to interact with Alan Paine and the "happy" couple.

“We planned on red candlesticks by the arch for the photographs," she said.

"They can go on the tables, can't they? I spent a long time setting up the white ones by the arch."

Kyler quit spooning oatmeal into her mouth and pressed her lips together. "I'm sure I mentioned red. I do appreciate the work, but the photos will come out so much better with that pop of color."

"Surely you don't mean for me to start all over."

"No, I'll do it."

"Really? I think the white ones look best. It took ages besides. Just leave 'em."

Alright,” Kyler conceded. “We’ll keep the red ones for the tables."

“Right then.” Matt planted a smacking kiss on her forehead and abandoned his single cup of coffee (non-alcoholic like a civilized person's) to go about his day after taking a scalding gulpful. Matt rarely had the patience to sit through a complete meal. He was never a big breakfast eater, preferring to dive straight into the day. With such huge grounds to explore, he'd announced his intention to spend the whole of his day roaming and exploring.

Kit continued to attack his plate with relish, stuffing his face with sausage and beans and eggs so as not to speak up and say something he shouldn’t. It was obvious that Kyler wanted to keep to the color scheme she'd planned months in advance. Matt should have let her have her way. Matt didn’t _really_ have a preference for the fucking candlesticks, he only wanted to get his way. But Kit had already watched Kyler compromise on a dozen other little things since they arrived so that he could have "his way." Matt was spoiled rotten. He let his mother spoil him and was too happy to let his fiancée do the same. How he still managed to remain so oblivious to Kyler's feelings or needs was baffling to Kit.

 

* * *

 

"Imagine the old bloke's face when he sees this," Matt said cheekily. He unspooled more twine to wrap around the garden gate.

Kit was desperate to avoid Alan, who remained stubbornly planted in the entrance hall, and traipsing through the countryside with Matt had proved an efficient way to do so. Alan was not an outdoorsman, thanks to his seasonal allergies (a fact which which he felt necessary to divulge at least once every two hours.)

Matt and Kit found themselves in the garden rigging one of the creepy little leprechaun statues to make it "dash" across the grass when unsuspecting, highly superstitious Donal Delaney pulled open the gate. Kit was sure Matt had gotten the concept directly from Ferris Bueller.

Donal really worked his way under Matt's skin. He was always saying how Kyler belonged there and how fitting it was for Castle Malloy to have a blood relative reintroduced to its halls. When Kit, in response to Donal's probing inquiries about his heritage, mentioned that both his sets of grandparents had come from Ireland, Donal's face beamed like a spotlight and now whenever he saw Kit he was always clapping him on the back and reciting old parables that Kit didn't understand. Donal's clear favoritism of Kit irritated Matt as well but he didn't say it.

"Hey, check this out," Matt said suddenly and when Kit turned around a branch pulled taut let loose and whacked him directly in the eye.

"Fuck!" he complained as his hand flew to his face.

"Oh, shit, I lost hold of it," Matt sounded apologetic but he still dissolved into laughter, doubling over.

"You're an asshole," Kit said automatically and Matt laughed harder.

"I see you trying not to laugh. Come over here and help me pull this back again. I need to set the twine."

Later after they finished setting up the leprechaun prank, when Matt wasn't looking Kit switched out the white candlesticks for red ones the way Kyler had wanted them. They walked right past the arch when they left. Matt didn't notice the difference.

 

* * *

  
Kit lingered in the entrance hall with Matt around lunchtime, the latter hunched over the enormous printing press stationed against the wall, attempting to figure out how Kyler wanted these "bloody programs" done and why she didn’t just pay for a shop to print them up. The massive printing press in the Great Hall had survived the explosion, and it was such a novel concept that Kyler had fallen in love with it instantly.

The sun was hidden underneath a thick blanket of gray clouds, but the air was warm and the cold breeze from the ocean drifted in through the open half of the room.

Kit had been working up to an important speech, and he finally decided it was better to just be out with it. He cleared his throat. “Look...I know we screw around a lot, but I've meaning to bring this up for a while." Matt continued tinkering. "This has all happened so fast, and marriage is such an enormous step. Have you really thought hard about what you're getting into?

Now Matt threw him an amused look over his shoulder. "Damn, I knew I forgot something."

“I’m serious. You two are pretty antagonistic with each other to begin with, and the close quarters of a marriage are only gonna amplify that.”

“Come on, man. Don’t go there.”

Kit leaned casually against the dining table, doing his best to take a leaf out of Kyler’s book and play it cool. No doubt he would start sweating through both of his shirts any second now. “I wouldn’t be your best friend if I didn’t ask you these types of questions. I mean, meeting her for the first time and planning a wedding in the span of eleven months is pretty rushed, you've got to admit."

“I have not got to.” Now Matt quit fiddling with the printing press and directed more of his attention to Kit. He was irritated. “This is the last thing I need to hear from you right now.”

“Who else is going to push you to think about the tough shit that needs thought over? For both your sakes I need to know that you’re not taking this lightly. Kyler—”

“Don't talk to me about Kyler. You listen here, I haven’t got any reservations about this,” he said in a menacing voice. “And if that’s good enough for me then it’s gonna hafta be good enough for you!”

“That’s _exactly_ the thing, man,” Kit exclaimed. “What if ‘good enough’ isn’t really enough? You’ve got to think about long-term compatibility in a situation like this.”

A heavy silence fell over them.

“And I suppose you’re good enough for her. Right, Kit?”

“I’m—fucking not talking about me, here,” he pulled his fingers through his hair. “This is about you two, and how you communicate, and how you handle conflict-resolution, and what you can ultimately _contribute_ to each other’s needs, get it?”

“Well, don’t you worry about the two of us. Worry about your own issues, mate. Work it out before the wedding. There’s time yet.” He strode stiffly across the hall and up the stairs, effectively bringing down the guillotine on the conversation.

 

* * *

  
Castle Malloy was situated on a sheer cliffside, waves beating against the rocks directly below. The sea air blew salty and brisk, mingling with the fragrance of honey and summer wildflowers. The lush greenery nestled into every stone crevice. Kyler Mallory had already wandered all over her newly acquired grounds—near the well, the standing stones, the bridge, and the sheep pen. Really, she’d seen everything but the ominous bog at the far west end of the property. She’d been warned vehemently that it was unfit to be traversed, and she figured there was nothing much to see over there, anyhow.

Out of everywhere, her favorite place besides the library happened to be the castle garden. She didn't know what to think of the leprechaun gnome statues lined up so neatly next to the whitewashed fence, but besides them, the little enclosure was home to roses and pink foxglove, heather, bog orchids, and other gorgeous blooming vegetation.

Kyler sat on the wrought iron bench underneath a canopy of trees, admiring the creeping vines curled round the birdbath fountain. With such a romantic setting, it should have taken her little to no time to finish up her wedding vows. But now, having scrawled out and replaced ninety percent of the lines, she began to felt apprehension that she might not finish them in time.

 _We will travel the road of life together._ Ugh, that was terrible. She added, _Through life’s trials and tribu—_ No, that’s wrong, _trials and celebrations, we will travel the road together._

Kyler’s pen scribbled heavily against the page. This shouldn’t be so difficult. She loved Matt and had assumed the words would come easily to her. In the months leading up to the wedding Kyler had put off her vows for that very reason. Matt, with the smug superiority of a writer, had informed her that he’d finished _his_ vows weeks ago. “Once we fly to Ireland to set up for the wedding, everything will seem more tangible and the words will flow at last,” she’d said to herself.

Well, now the time had come. The wedding felt tangible all right, but the romantic declarations did not follow. She tapped her pen up and down.

 _From our first meeting, you’ve made me laugh._ Not exactly heartfelt. Kyler crossed it out.

_From the first meeting, you have brought laughter into my life, a truer gift I’ve never known and one I will treasure always._

Well, the words sounded nice, but she was suddenly seized with guilt at their dishonest implication. She’d certainly laughed just as often when she’d been together with Kit. Matt was not the sole bringer of lightheartedness into her life and it seemed cruel to denote otherwise, especially right in front of everybody.

Her pen scratched out an ugly, dark line over the offending snippet. This was ridiculous. _She_ was ridiculous. Why was she taking Kit into consideration in her vows to another man?

Fragments of sunlight broke through the leafy branches above her. The afternoon weather was too nice to sit here with a headache from overthinking, Kyler decided. Maybe she could convince Matt to do away with writing their own vows. Just a traditional, “In sickness and in health,” etc. ought to do it.

 

* * *

  
It was four years ago—the day they saw each other for the first time. It was a Monday, and Kyler had just ducked out of her debate class for some gulps of air to clear her head.

She’d signed up for the course as a way to conquer a weakness. She'd made the decision in a split instant on purpose, so she couldn't overthink and talk herself out of it.

It was only the second class in and already the raised voices and forceful tones had sent her running outside. Her classmates may as well have been spitting fire from the way Kyler reacted to it.

Kyler found it all well and good while _preparing_ for a debate; her notes were clear and concise, neatly bulleted with counterarguments and supporting statements. On paper, she was downright persuasive.

During the thick of it, however? Not so much.

The anxiety that choked her, wrapping its fingers tightly around her throat, was palpable and debilitating. Too many eyes on her—too personal a conversation, even—sent blood rushing to her ears and neck, leaving her flushed and tongue-tied within seconds.

This is meant to help you, she barked at herself internally as she leaned against a pillar outside of building C. All she wanted to do was drop the class and she only had four days left to decide.

She’d taken two deep breaths when she realized she wasn’t alone in the corridor. He was sprawled unobtrusively on the bottom steps across the corridor leading up to the rest of the communications classes. He wore black trousers that fit as if they might have been tailored, and a thick jumper rolled up to the elbows. His dark hair stuck up in many different angles and he had a rather disheveled look about him, much like a student in his final weeks at university, not the first ones.

Once she finally noticed him he seemed to realize that he’d been staring and looked away. She went back inside.

On Wednesday, she had the class again. They listened to a short lecture and split off into their opposing sides to finish the previous debate. Just as before, twenty pairs of eyes pinned her to the wall as she tried to begin her argument. She grew overwhelmed and excused herself outside to calm her shaking fingers. Damn it! She couldn’t keep leaving the room in the middle of it. Not if she wanted credit for participation. Her shoulders drooped heavily toward the ground. Perhaps she should have started off with public speaking. No one was expected to respond and disarm you in the middle of speechmaking. Two days. That’s all the time she had left of drop week.

“Don’t drop it.” The voice had come from the stairs, and now she saw the same guy sprawled out as before. It was raining today, and he wore a smart-looking blue coat, his breath coming out in white puffs.

“Drop what?”

“The class. You've got stage fright, yeah? I can say with experience you’ll feel much better if you see it through.”

As he spoke she registered his accent. “Oh, you’re American,” she said rather dimly. He’d taken her off guard and she blurted out her first thought.

He shrugged in apology. “Nobody’s perfect.”

She laughed once, a spontaneous burst that was fueled by nerves.

“I mean it, though,” he said.

“For a stranger you sure hold me to high expectations.”

He looked closer, as if sizing her up. “I’m not wrong. You can do it.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I’m an excellent judge of character,” he assured her.

“And full of yourself.”

“I prefer ‘self-aware.’”

“You haven’t seen me in there,” she said, motioning behind her. “It’s a nightmare.”

“Oh, no,” he said, shaking his head as if disappointed.

“What?”

“You’re one of those people who expect to be good at everything on the first try, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” she said acidly.

"Now I see it. You're a perfectionist. Unable to let yourself to come off as subpar, even when you're learning something new."

"I'm _not_ ," she repeated, lying through her teeth to maintain her pride.

“Then why are you so eager to quit? You just need some more practice. It’s going to suck at first, but it’ll get easier the more you’re used to it.” He paused. “Maybe just lay off the coffee before you go in. Sure doesn’t help the shakes or the anxiety.”

He had motioned towards her fingers, still trembling with adrenaline and Kyler shoved the traitorous appendages into her pockets and pressed her lips together. He spoke forwardly for never having met her before. He didn't know anything about her. In fact, she found that she was irritated at him. _Very_ irritated.

Before she could open her mouth to let him know what she thought of his meddling questions and assumptions, he lifted a hand to shoo her toward the door. “Go. Direct it at the opposing team.”

She swallowed her biting remark. He climbed to his feet, collecting himself and rising to an impressive height before her. He had a litheness to him, sloping limbs and the slightly manic eyes of an insomniac. Beginning to trudge up the stairs, he called back over his shoulder. “I’ll meet you back here Monday to see how it went.” A slight flutter leaped in her chest.

The easy familiarity he'd extended to her was enticing. Or was it presumptuous? She could have never acted as he did with a complete stranger. He'd spoken to her like they were already friends. _Americans_ , she thought scathingly.

By the time they went on their first date one week later, she found herself caught up in it all over again. She liked the side of her that came to the surface to match with his antics. They'd been talking nonstop for a good long while before it occurred to him to introduce himself in the middle of it. _Kit Foley_ , he'd said, sticking his hand out. The city lights illuminated his features with its hazy glow in the night and she felt a painfully sweet tug at the possibilities blooming right before her eyes.

It was these memories that Kyler now turned over in her mind as she lay on her cot in the castle library, her book upside down on her chest, forgotten as she slipped into daydreams.

 

* * *

  
Below in the entrance hall, Kit was suffering from similar maladies. Rather than their beginning, however, he was thinking about their end. Terrible things they'd said to each other. The infinite vein of pride rooted deeply within their hearts.

_You're such a bloody prat, I can't stand to even look at you!_

_That’s great, Kyler, that’s really great. Just fucking walk away like you always do._

He’d been every bit as stubborn as she was. It was a stupid fight, the origin of which neither of them could remember, and it had escalated into something bigger. After its height he should’ve let her have the time she needed to process. If he’d just backed off and let her work things out after that argument, they might’ve stayed together. While it was in her nature to take things slowly, it drove Kit to a slow madness sometimes, waiting for her to work out her emotions and continue working through the conflict. He needed to rip into it with his fingers and get everything out in the open and she needed to peel back each layer carefully and he had pushed too hard.

He shouldn’t have called her bluff. When they were still fighting—broken up by then, but continuing to circle each other—he hadn’t thought anything of Kyler agreeing to go on a date with Matt. She was obviously trying to get a rise out of Kit. No way was he going to give her the satisfaction of intervening and admitting to his jealousy.

It wasn’t until Kyler agreed to a third date with Matt and she threw Kit the let's-be-friends speech that he realized the enormity of his mistake. He’d gambled—hard, and lost.

 

* * *

  
One week after Matt and Kyler had announced their engagement, Kit began to receive the phone calls.

They didn’t come every night but the number was always blocked and Kit was ninety-nine percent certain they came from the same person. Always late night, one to three a.m. at least. Always the same delicate intake of breath, the same heavy silence as Kit asked who was there.

It didn’t take him long to figure out who it was. By the fifth call, he knew it was Kyler. He knew it was her.

Of course she was having doubts. She’d agreed to devote the rest of her life to somebody she hadn't even known for a full calendar year. And this was after previously breaking off a four-year relationship over a petty argument. Who wouldn’t have second thoughts?

Kit and Kyler did the whole “friends” routine for a while, but the last month or so, Matt had purposely spent time with them separately. Obviously Kit had never said straight out, “I’m still in love with your fiancée,” to his best friend. But he didn’t need to say it out loud. Matt was no idiot.

Well, maybe he was, but he still had eyes in his head.

They kept up civil appearances as friends to the point where Kyler could have called Kit anytime during daylight hours and it would not have been suspicious. These late night calls from a private number signified something different.

She never responded when he asked who was there. Sometimes he tried to get her to talk. _I know it's you. Freaking out about something.  
_

As long as he stayed on the line and continued to inquire who was there or spoke coaxing supplications, she would stay connected. As soon as he quit obliging her with the sound of his voice, the call would drop with a quiet click.

One night he lost his temper. “Just fucking say it, Kyler.”

He heard her draw in a ragged breath, but she remained silent. For once he disconnected first.

She quit calling after that.

* * *

  
  
DAY THREE  
“What do you think you’re doing?”

The faint-hearted Alan Paine jumped a foot in the air at having been caught at the library door. Raised, exasperated voices drifted from inside the room. Matt and Kyler were fighting, and Alan was clearly eavesdropping like a little snoop.

Kit glowered at him. Bumbling, the idiotic man wrung his hands before gathering his composure. “Er—I’ve been quite ready for breakfast for some time now and thought I would see how far along the rest of our party was,” he said, defensive.

“They’re obviously busy,” Kit remarked scathingly. “They can catch up later.” He swept an arm in a grand motion toward the downward sloping steps. “After you.”

Alan couldn’t take his gaze off of Kit’s newly blackened eye. He looked hesitant to turn his back to Kit, and kept staring at the mottled bruise as if Kit might jump him at any moment. Oh well, he thought. Let him think they were all a bunch of savage miscreants.

 

* * *

  
“Wanna bum one?”  
Kit must have been staring longingly at her cigarette, and the voluptuous brunette smoking outside the Screaming Banshee shook her pack at him. Bright purple suitcases sat at her feet and she looked like she'd been waiting out here for quite a while.

“I quit years ago,” he answered.

She slid them back into her pocket with a knowing smile. She instead held out her own lit one. “I see. Can't trust yourself with a whole one. You need that single forbidden drag, then.”

He hesitated for three long seconds before pinching it out of her fingers and stealing a deep lungful. The relief must have shown on his face as he exhaled because she let out a booming laugh as he returned the cigarette. He would never pick the habit back up, but there were times (like now, for instance) when his patience wore thinnest and he craved nearly any distraction. Even a nicotine-laced drag from a stranger would suffice, apparently.

“One of those days.” His gaze was drawn to Matt and Kyler, visible through one of the front windows of the inn.

She nodded sympathetically and took another drag. Gravel crunched underneath tires as the car she’d been waiting for drove up alongside them. “Chin up,” she told him, pushing off the wall and extinguishing her smoke. The car pulled away with its passenger safely deposited inside.

Kit heaved a sigh and looked again toward the inn. He didn’t want to go back in and instead started down the path.

“Kit,” he heard Kyler call. He turned his head and she jogged to catch up with him. She was wearing a deep green coat that made her red hair look alive. “Walk me?”

Through the window Kit could see Matt engaged in a rowdy game of darts with another pub-goer. He would surely be in there for another hour.

“Sure.”

They didn’t speak as they traversed the road back to the castle. In fact, it wasn’t until after they’d crossed the bridge on the winding path up to the entrance that Kit felt the need to break their silence.

Turning to look at her, he had to admit that he agreed with Donal on one point: she looked like she belonged here. Her auburn hair and spattering of freckles on her cheeks looked dark against the gray mist. White throat, slender wrists, green eyes shining; he took in all of these details like a drink of fresh water to a parched throat. She was everything he wanted and everything he couldn’t have.

“I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that,” she said in a low voice.

“Like what?”

“Like...you’re going to do something dramatic before the week is over.”

“You mean like admit I’m still in love with you?”

Twin spots of color rushed into her cheeks.

“I need to make sure that this is really what you want,” he said.

“Kit.” She spoke it as a warning.

“I mean it. I know how you feel obligated to go through with things when other people’s convenience is on the line, but you need to forget about the rest of the guests and take a good long look at what you’re about to do.”

“You have no right to try to talk me out of this.” Her voice wavered and her eyes narrowed to slits. She glanced at the path behind them worriedly and Kit realized she was concerned Matt might catch up and see them arguing.

He muttered under his breath and headed away from the path through the high grass, straight for the cliffside. His neck ached from tension, and he realized he was coiled as tight as a spring. Kyler stomped along behind him. Kit recognized all the signs that she was gearing up for an argument: hand splayed on the back of her neck, nostrils flared, eyebrows furrowed with contemplation.

“He is wrong for you,” Kit burst out when they were out of sight and earshot of the path. “He’s lazy and unmotivated.”

“He’s laid back,” she corrected harshly. “You _would_ say that about him given how pushy you are!”

“Yeah, you’re damn right I pushed you,” he punctuated this with an accusing finger. “I pushed you where it mattered. I pushed you to leave the career you hated and pursue your dream. I tried to spark your ambition and I’d do it all over again! Matt lets you sit right where you are, letting your whole life be consumed by his, leaving no room left for you to grow. He doesn't _challenge_ you."

Tears began to glitter dangerously in the corners of her eyes and her voice rose above his. “He does.”

“The only thing he challenges is your patience.”

“Can’t you be civil for one single second?” she bit back.

“Admit it! You want to stay with him because he’s the safe option. He'll let you fester away and you won't ever have to worry about pushing yourself." He took a breath, as if restraining himself further. "I know you were mad at me before, you had good reason to be. But is it really fair to Matt for you to keep up this relationship that was built out of spite?”

“It’s far from spite, you bloody asshole! Believe it or not, our relationship doesn’t have anything to _do_ with you, so you can turn the spotlight off of yourself for once in your life.” Kyler was so angry she was practically spitting. Balled fists, hair standing on end. If she were a cat, she'd be arched and hissing. He realized he was only backing them into a dead end.

Kit was not that dickhead that didn’t listen to a word anybody said and continued to pursue them against their will. He knew when to drop it. He also knew Kyler to fib in order to conceal her feelings, and he'd had a long four and a half years to learn when she was lying. Kyler liked to think she could hide everything, but she couldn’t. Not from him.

“I hurt you,” he said. “And you hurt me. The things I said were petty, and I was a real bastard. I wish I’d apologized sooner than I did. It’s my fault what happened to us and I want you know how sorry I am. But we’ve both grown since then. We’ve learned things about ourselves and each other and this time we’ve spent apart doesn’t have to spell out the end of us.”

“But it does, don’t you see? You already apologized. We forgave each other a long time ago. We’re friends now. It’s been too long for you to pick up in the middle of this argument.”

“Friends,” he repeated. His fingers raked across his jaw. “That's rich, but I'm not going to even touch that one right now. I know that you've already put money into this and you're worried about pissing off the guests that already shelled out for airline tickets, but put all that aside. It's not worth the rest of your life. If you still feel the same way, then marry the guy, I guess. But don't go through with it because you feel some sort of obligation to see things through."

 

* * *

  
Kyler’s doubts ran deep. She’d had them before, but if she dared to admit any, Kit would have latched on and run with it. She wasn’t even surprised that he had accosted her with that little speech of his. Fiercely intense, Kit would never shy away from confrontation.

What was surprising, however, was learning that he was still in love with her. Or was he? He’d said it strangely, like a question. Kit’s words stirred something within her that she’d meant to bury, something previously left untouched.

Back when she’d first started seeing Matt, she’d thought of Kit all the time. She figured it was normal, these natural comparisons between two lovers, especially when she’d had so few lovers in the past to compare at all. But this, to be thinking in this manner about an ex mere _days_ before her wedding, was that just as normal?

Kit had drifted in and out of her head constantly ever since Matt asked her to marry him. When she couldn't sleep at night and felt numb after hours of deadening stares at the blue-grey ceiling of her flat, she'd tried to call him. She blocked her number like a coward. Her fingers dialed clumsily in the dark, the glow of her phone screen harsh, illuminating her absurd hopes that he might be feeling something, too. Whenever he answered she could never quite find what to say to him, and she struggled in silence.

He'd been the easiest person to talk to she'd ever met. Sometimes he caught on to what she wanted to say before she even said it. But during those phone calls he waited stubbornly for her to sort it out herself. What had she expected? He was not her boyfriend anymore. When he'd snapped at her one night she finally quit calling.

She'd assumed he was over her, pissed that out of everyone she could have latched onto, it had to be _his_ friend and that he would never forgive her. And now this conversation he sprang onto her by the cliffside had sent her reeling. It felt like her feet were swept out from underneath her, like she could be lost in the vastness of the black water or the green misty hills around them.

She felt willing to admit Kit was right on one point; Matt was rather the safe choice. She hadn't felt in danger with Kit, obviously, but she had less of an idea of what he was going to do next. Matt rarely surprised her with his behavior or the things he said. Kit ran unpredictably, and it felt more like she was in uncharted territory some of the time. He could be a bloody control freak sometimes, for sure, but this had made him undeniably sexy in bed. Oh, Lord, thinking about Kit in bed was a huge mistake. A flutter leapt about, low in her abdomen. He loved to tease and pull back, carefully measuring her reactions, each touch eliciting more and more fervor from her. Tantalizing, and quick to reward, he maneuvered them so efficiently that it made it all the more satisfying to Kyler when she successfully disarmed him with the right dig of her fingernails or a strategic dirty whisper.

Hopefully nobody had noticed Kyler side-eyeing the muscles that went taut in Kit's arms when he lifted one of those heavy glass mugs of beer to his lips at the Screaming Banshee that morning. Veins ran the length of his forearms and disappeared up into his rolled-up shirt sleeves. She swallowed roughly and it felt like gravel. He had certainly been putting away the drinks ever since they'd landed in Ireland.

 

* * *

  
Kyler's footsteps echoed in the entrance hall as she descended the steps.

"Have you seen Matt anywhere?"

"Not since our walk," Kit said.

Her gaze flicked over to Alan. "He came back here with me from the inn this afternoon," he answered. "He should still be upstairs."

"I just popped my head into the nursery and didn't see him," Kyler said, frowning.

"He'll turn up. Maybe the garden or something," Kit suggested.

"Right." She looked unconvinced.

When she came back through an hour later looking worried, Kit got up from his seat. "Let's just have a quick look around," he said. "We'll double-check all the rooms."

 

* * *

  
The abandoned nursery upstairs was creepy as shit. A single pink bed stood in the center next to a dressing table and a dollhouse. Books and toys left mostly intact, like the polka-dotted rocking horse and the china teapot on the little table. These otherwise innocent children's possessions contrasted sharply with the stick-like vines reaching their gnarled fingers in through the busted glass in the window. Cracks in the walls, dusty cobwebs, crumbling stone and crooked picture frames left the room looking sad and dilapidated. This, however, was to be expected of a place that hadn't been occupied for decades. What sent the nursery over the line from abandoned to creepy, Kit thought, were the ominous messages on the chalkboard and on framed needlepoint samplers throughout the room. Things like, 'evil returns to the evil doer,' and 'truth speaks even though the tongue were dead.' Maybe it was a cultural thing, maybe it was a product of its time or whatever people said to justify weird old-timey nonsense, but most of the five-year olds Kit knew of fared just fine with the classic ABCs.

Matt wasn't in the nursery. They checked the library at the end of the hall just to be thorough. Crackling fire, suit of armor, writing desk, crammed bookshelves, just the same as usual.

The stairs leading up to the third story had crumbled away, leaving the entire floor inaccessible. Kyler called Matt's name in an echo up the circular corridor anyway, straining her ears for a response. Kyler had been looking into getting it repaired, eager to see the rest of the castle. In the meantime it was unlikely that Matt had figured out a way up there.

A great creaking sound came from downstairs, and Kyler, recognizing the sound of the front door, broke off and hurried down to the the drafty entrance hall, Kit and Alan right on her trail.

It was only Donal Delany, bent over his cane like an old tree.

"Have you just come from the inn?" Kyler asked him.

"Indeed I have. Havin' a spot of supper."

"Did you happen to see Matt while you were there?"

He looked sour. "Haven't laid eyes on the Sassanach since this mornin'."

"It appears he's gone missing," Alan said dramatically.

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that," Kit amended. "We still haven't checked outside."

"He's probably hiding somewhere," Kyler said with sudden realization. "That lout, he's having a good laugh right now, watching us scramble about to find him. Another one of his practical jokes, I'm sure."

"He does things of this nature quite often?" Alan inquired disapprovingly.

"I'm afraid he does. Pranks are his favorite form of entertainment."

"Let's keep looking," Kit said. He had a strange feeling about this one.

Alan all but stamped his foot. "I refuse to be led about like a fool. If he's playing childish games he's going to have to play them without me. I'll stay right here, thank you."

"How sensible of you. Let's go, Kyler."

 

* * *

  
The doorway connecting the hall to the kitchen had been blown away in the explosion, caved in irreparably, so they had to go out the big hole inthe entrance hall and traipse behind the garden to get in through the back door.

The kitchen had been built to accommodate high-volume meals. Endless lengths of countertops lined the walls. The ancient-looking stovetop had fallen into disrepair, but a little hot plate had been set up so they could at the very least boil water for tea. Dried herbs still hung upside down with twine in the pantry, forming a canopy over the jars of old preserves. Matt wasn't here either.

They still had the entirety of the gardens to search, the well, the standing stones, and the sheep pen, and Kyler began to look more apprehensive as the minutes ticked by.

"Maybe we should split up."

"We've only got one lantern," he said quietly. "It'll be pitch-black out here soon."

"Then let's get on with it."

* * *

  
  
DAY FOUR  
"He is _nowhere_ to be found and I will not indulge this one moment longer."

"Please, he'll show up when we least expect it. He's just having a bit of a laugh."

"I'm sorry, miss. I won't stand around and be made a fool of. Whenever he decides to start acting like an adult, I'll be happy to come back."

"Alan, I insist."

Kit woke to Alan's nasally objections, rising above Kyler's pleads for him to stay. His head swam with grogginess and the corners of his eyes felt gritty. Early morning sunlight illuminated the garden outside the missing section of the hall. He heard birds singing.

The loud scrape of the front door as Alan left was enough to jar him fully awake. Kyler emitted a noise of frustration and placed her hands on her hips, her elbows making sharp angles.

"No great loss, that one."

She spun around as if she'd forgotten he was on the other side of the room. Kit was certain his hair stuck up everywhere like it tended to in the morning. She shot him a venomous look. "Well, that's easy for you to say when it isn't your wedding."

"I s'pose you're right."

She smoothed her hair and headed outside after Alan, her shoulders stiff with tension. He'd only been making a crack at Mr. Paine's disagreeable company, but she was in no mood to joke about the best man bailing right before the wedding.

And speaking of bailing...Alan had just said that Matt was still missing? Kit kicked off his sleeping bag and reached for a shirt out of his open suitcase. He stood up from the cot, scrunched his eyes and sat back down immediately, counting to five and trying again more slowly. Kit had imbibed at least one or two drinks past what he should have the night before. Maybe three.

They'd finally given up the search when it grew too dark for them to see. Kyler had been optimistic that Matt would turn up sometime in the night while they were sleeping, but clearly that hadn't happened.

Kit made his way upstairs, buttoning his shirt as he went. He rubbed his hand against his jaw. He needed a shave. The door to the nursery swung open beneath his palm, looking almost cheerful in the morning light, but then he saw those eerie samplers and changed his mind. He took a good look around the room again and confirmed his suspicions: _Matt's luggage was gone._

He wasn't hiding from them, he'd _left_. What if some of the things Kit had brought up yesterday had gotten to him? Maybe Matt hadn't been as secure in their relationship as he'd thought.

 

* * *

  
Kit went down the road shortly after for his customary breakfast at the Screaming Banshee. He had to figure out what to say to Kyler. When he told her, he absolutely did not want to come off as an asshole.

Once inside, he made his way to his favorite table by the window. The place was almost empty, but Kit was starting to recognize the regulars. He figured he'd better not drink this morning and glanced at his wristwatch, wincing at the early hour. Definitely better not.

He spotted Donal limping over to him on his cane. Surprising, since the old man hardly made it a point to approach any of them except Kyler.

"Have you found the Simmons boy?" Donal demanded, straightening his cap.

"Fraid not."

"It's as I suspected," he said, suddenly looked very smug and validated. "He was taken. Snatched off into the night."

"Come again?"

"The Good People don't see him fit for Kyler, so they're seein' to it that there won't be any wedding. Least not one with the Simmons boy."

"I can't say I'm following," Kit said in disbelief.

"With all that Irish in you, you oughta know about our otherwordly visitors."

Luckily Seamus came over to get Kit's order and he didn't have to talk to Donal anymore. Really, this was just great, he felt so comforted to know just how far gone the caretaker of Kyler's property was. So good to know he was responsible for the whole of her inheritance.

The sun through the window was starting to get warm and he folded his sleeves up while he waited for his food.

 

* * *

  
Kyler came out through the garden gate as Kit walked up the long path and approached the castle. Her cheeks were splotchy and it looked as if she'd been outside for a while.

"I've just dealt with the deliverymen for the rentals, and apparently their price doesn't include any sort of assembly so they've just dropped everything in a heap in the middle of the garden." She pressed her fingers to her forehead. "And now Mr. Paine's even gone away! This is the worse time Matt could pick to play a practical joke, he promised me that he'd help with setting up."

"You think he's still here?" Kit couldn't hide his surprise.

"Well, of course. He wouldn't have gone far, not this close to the wedding. He's probably trying to get out of chores."

 _Chores?_ "Kyler, I checked the nursery and his luggage his gone. He took it with him."

"Probably moved it for his prank. Look, I can't slow down on these wedding preparations to chase after him. I know it's what he wants me to do but I told him about all the work that still has to be done."

He sighed. "I flew out early for a reason, y'know. I'll help you set up the tables and chairs."

"Oh, you will? That would be such a help, I still have to check how far Matt made it on the programs I asked him to print, and I still have half a dozen phone calls to make..." she trailed off as she recounted a mental list.

He shook his head once her back was turned. She obviously wasn't ready to face the facts. He'd go along with her for now, but eventually she needed to realize that Matt would never hide this long for the sake of a prank.

 

* * *

  
Donal made his way back to the castle to light the fires for the evening and tend to the sheep, and even though both Matt and Alan were absent, he still lit the fireplaces with unusual cheer, very uncharacteristic in comparison to the past four days of their stay. Needless to say, Kit didn't think he seemed too put out about the missing groom.

Kit knocked on the library door and opened it once he heard her affirmation. Kyler was sprawled across her own cot next to a stack of books and an open journal. Empty teacups with burned matchheads floating in the dregs, chocolate wrappers, and wild chaotic notes scribbled across paper napkins from the inn scattered around her. She'd swept up a handful of lavender sprigs from outside and placed them in an old cracked vase.

"I knew it was you." She scratched a note in her journal. "You're the only one who knocks."

"Surely you're not going to just sit up here by yourself?"

Kyler didn't look up from her book. "I can and I intend to."

"This place is huge and empty and in the middle of nowhere, and without Matt right down the hall—"

"Without him, what? I'm not going to do anything differently. I won't give him the satisfaction of having shaken me up. Everything will go on as planned."

"Matt _and_ Alan are gone now, the plan already seems a bit derailed."

"If it bothers you to be without them you don't have to stay here. There are other places you can go, you know." She turned a crisp page in her book, remaining infuriatingly detached. Her best weapon.

"I'll be downstairs."

He breezed past the nursery and down the steps. Stubborn, irritating...She could just stay up there with her damned books as long as she pleased. He had nowhere to be and could wait however long it took for her to come to her senses. He was not about to leave Kyler here by herself.

 

* * *

  
It turned out Kit needn't have worried, as that very night the maid of honor finally arrived. Donal sat with Kit downstairs, asking questions about his grandparents and talking about their shared Irish heritage and expressing his general approval of Kyler's returning to the family's home all the while Kit was stuck listening, bored to tears. It had been all day with this.

A forceful knock sounded on the heavy wooden door and he snapped his gaze to the door, eerie shadows from the fireplace cast across it. It was almost comical to hear, Kit having grown steadily used to their perpetual seclusion at the castle; nobody had once knocked on the door the whole time they'd been there.

Donal's bushy eyebrows knit together in irritation. Kit assumed Donal had been rather glad to see Matt and Alan leave so that he had Kyler and Kit all to himself. Probably he didn't want what he thought was a fine evening to be so rudely interrupted.

Donal shuffled quickly to the big doors and opened it up the tiniest crack. Kit took the opportunity to yawn and stretch while Donal muttered something in a low voice—most likely insulting—to the intruder. The door shut quickly and Donal moved to reclaim his seat next to Kit and continue the sparkling conversation.

It was some time later that the knocks sounded again, echoing against the high ceiling. Donal began to stand up once more, looking ready to kill. The old man's knobby knees seemed to creak under his weight and Kit held out his hand to stop him. "Look, I'll get the door, alright?"

"You'll do no such thing!"

Donal took his job as caretaker very seriously and was offended at anybody trying to do him any favors based on his frail age. He opened the door again, barking at the person to move along to the inn but this time Kyler had made her way down the stairs.

"What are you doing?" Kyler asked Donal. "That's my maid of honor, let her in!"

Donal reluctantly moved out the way. The girl had red hair and funny-looking jeans, and Kit recognized her from the pictures that Kyler had taken during her time abroad. They spoke their general greetings and formalities and she followed Kyler upstairs, Donal watching their retreat with his usual sour face.

"Girl's gone and ran her car into a ditch," he said scathingly. "I s'pose I ought to go sort out her keys and suitcase."

"She looked pretty good for having just been in an accident."

"I told her there would be no weddin' and she kept right on with her knocking, disturbing Miss Kyler." He began to limp along at a surprising clip towards the door. "Perfectly good evenin' squandered by the likes of her."

When Kit was finally alone he let out a sigh of relief. He typically didn't mind Donal. The old caretaker was harmless enough, maybe a little off-putting with some of his subject matter, but he liked to talk so often and in such long durations that with Alan and Matt gone, Donal's omnipresence was beginning to grate.

Thank the stars this Nancy person had arrived when she did to provide them all with a distraction.

He went upstairs. Outside the library door Kit was about to knock and join the conversation, figuring he could introduce himself, but Kyler's raised voice stopped him.

"—I do hope he's enjoying himself, because as soon as we're married? That will be that. No more practical jokes. Ever."

He thought better of it and headed back downstairs to his cot.

 

* * *

  
Nancy sure took her job as maid of honor seriously, Kit thought to himself. She'd come down and introduced herself later that night and had started asking questions right away. Specific questions about Matt and Kyler. He figured he'd oblige her since all the theories the poor girl had heard so far involved elaborate pranks and supernatural fairy kidnappings.

Besides her incessant, lengthy interrogations, she spent an awful lot of time marching back and forth, inside and outside, up and down the stairs, each time with a different book or handful of papers than before. She wrote a lot of stuff down, and wanted to know about the strangest details.

Why did she need so many fortunes from that old crank-powered machine by the door? And why did she keep collecting gears and little dolls? At one point she lugged hefty flat squares of metal over to the printing press and messed with them for twenty minutes before scuttling off once again.

Apparently she knew something that the rest of them didn't, and that was just fine by Kit.

Damn, what he wouldn't do for a decent cup of coffee. He rummaged around in the kitchen and tossed away the cheap instant coffee packets with dismay. It looked like they were due for another trip into town for more groceries. In the meantime he began the long walk to the inn.

It was a warm night, save perhaps the occasional ocean breeze that whispered through the tall grass. The endless number of twinkling lights in the sky above was astonishing. Kit had grown accustomed to the light pollution in the city and nearly fell over in surprise every time he looked up to find all those stars staring back down at him.

By now he had crossed the little bridge and reached the main gate at the start of the street. He spotted Nancy's car pulled over to the side of the road, abandoned, hazards flashing.

Inspecting the front of the car, he decided that Donal had exaggerated the significance of the accident. The bumper looked a bit scuffed from bouncing around the thick foliage in the ditch, but she hadn't hit anything. Nancy claimed that something had run out in front of her on the road. Probably some type of animal. Much of the land surrounding the castle's acreage was wild. Who knew what was lurking around out there?

 

* * *

  
As the night pressed on some of Nancy's questions grew too personal. Her questing spotlight fixated now on _his_ relationship with both Matt and Kyler. She was like one of those drug-sniffing dogs and it was all he could do to get her focused elsewhere and he started pitching things to her, wedding tasks and seating charts and random books he'd found, anything she could add to her pile of collectibles that would make her leave him alone.

No, not a drug-sniffing hound, he decided, looking at her. One of those hyper-intelligent ravens that congregated around the castle, clinging to the gates and sussing out the world around them with beady observant eyes. Making connections that the rest of them would never think to. Not to mention the same propensity to stockpile shiny things.

Take, for instance, all the weird phenomenon around here she seemed to notice that nobody else could account for. Did he see the lights up in the inaccessible tower? Could he hear Matt's voice coming from the empty nursery? Had he heard the shrieking noise out from across the bog? Um, no, no, and definitely fucking no. In fact, she seemed awfully interested in that bog. Namely in what may or not be on the other side of it. He began to feel a bit worried that they would be forced to fish the maid of honor's body from out of the sticky deathtrap by the end of their trip.

Finally something he'd shown her stuck. The leprechaun book he'd picked up in the nursery seemed to be the thing. She studied it intently as she flipped the pages back and forth. Turning neatly on her heel, she hurried away with that determined expression, launching herself through the front door. Redirection accomplished.

 

* * *

  
True to her word, Kyler had remained firmly planted in the library, reading every piece of literature regarding Irish history or her family she could get her hands on. Where else was she supposed to stay, downstairs with Kit? Just because they were the last ones left didn't mean they needed to stick together. Kyler sat in her favorite chair at the table by the window to read, her back to the fire. Here she had an unimpeded view of the night sky.

She thought about asking Nancy if she'd like to bring her cot upstairs into the library with hers. The communal living situation downstairs had been borne out of necessity with there being so few rooms left in the castle. Kyler didn't dare offer Nancy the nursery. She didn't wish to send Donal into another spasm.

There was a knock on the library door. Kit.

"Hey." He lingered in the doorway, hands stuffed into his pockets. "Not that I think it's very likely, but in the event that the Energizer bunny down there ever winds down and wants to go to sleep or plug herself back into the wall or however she does it, I figured I'd carry up a cot for her to crash on."

Kyler bit back a smile. "That's a good idea."

The cot was collapsed, folded in two, and Kit lugged it by the handle over to the corner by the bookshelf.

"Thanks for thinking of her. She's come a long way to be here."

"Well, you know." He shrugged. "Holding up all right?"

"Oh, yes. Just fine. I've got plenty to read."

"I didn't mean in the way of entertainment."

Kyler set her book down and he lowered himself into one of the sitting chairs next to the fireplace. Her chair legs scraped the floor as she repositioned herself a little towards him.

"I mean, I'm frustrated, and a little stressed out, but that's to be expected when your fiancé is playing some horrible joke on you. These pranks are getting really out of hand."

"I know what you said to Nancy. About putting an end to his practical jokes after the wedding. Do you really believe that? That you can expect him to change a fundamental part of himself, his love of jokes and fooling around?"

"I know it's unrealistic. I was just angry."

"You have every right to be angry. He left at a really sucky time."

"He didn't leave," she insisted. "He's still here. I know he's still here."

"Why are you so certain? Has the possibility that he left even occurred to you yet, even after all this time?"

"So you agree with Donal, then? That the wedding's not going to happen."

"He may be wrong about a lot of things, but that's one of the only plausible things he's said this whole trip," Kit said.

By now her chair was turned all the way around to face him and she leaned forward. "That's how it is, then? Donal's ramblings are just inane gossip until he says something that manages to suit you."

"Don't talk to me about gossip, you don't seem to have any problem with it when you can foister off all the snooping onto your friend. You don't have to lift a finger with your personal spy running around for you. Bet she delivers all sorts of interesting headlines."

"Oh, yes!" she said sarcastically, holding her chin in mock pensiveness. "In fact, the most recent one is Local Man Plots to Liquidate Ex-Girlfriend's Newly Inherited Estate."

So Nancy had found his sketch. The sketch he'd doodled mapping out condos on the Malloy grounds. And she'd shown it to Kyler. There wasn't an inch of land this girl hadn't swept her fingers over. "Come on. You've seen me make dozens of hypothetical development plans. Those were just some sketches I made because I was bored. I'm not after your property." The very idea sounded absurd.

Kyler's momentum had built up by now. "Then what are you after?"

"Nothing!"

"Then why are you trying to tell me there's not going to be a wedding?"

"Because Matt is _gone_."

"Matt would never walk out on me."

"I'm sure he still loves you, but that doesn't mean he's ready to get married, or knows how to tell you."

"Oh, so he told you to tell me? Or was his leaving your idea? What'd you tell him, Kit? That I still had feelings for you? That it isn't over between us? Because it is! It is most definitely over."

"But is that what you want?" he asked with exasperation, getting right to the core of the issue, just like always. "Do you want it to _stay_ over?"

She screeched to a halt. The easy answer was right on her lips: _yes_. So why couldn't she say it?

"Of course I never said anything like that to him," he said, providing her with both a release from the question and an acknowledgment of her earlier accusation. The intensity lingered in his eyes. "I didn't know he was planning to leave or hide or wherever he is. And I definitely didn't march up to him and start talking about any lingering feelings."

"Well, I only wish you'd extended _me_ the same courtesy on that point."

"You'd rather I didn't tell you the truth? If you're supposedly head-over-heels in love with the guy, what do my feelings matter to you?" he asked. "You're mad because you _feel something back_. You buried your reservations about marrying Matt, and hearing the truth from me stirred them back up a little more than you would have liked."

Kyler felt a hot flush in her ears and struggled to contain her anger. Why was it so difficult to get control of herself around him? A great number of their conversations together had at least one of her emotions rampaging out of control, slipping past the barriers she worked on so carefully.

"Why do you keep talking like this?" she demanded, rage spilling over.

"Because I'm in love with you!"

"What will it take for you to stop saying that?"

"Give me the God's honest truth to this one question," he held up a single finger, "and I'll never say it again."

"By all means, don't keep me in suspense. I'm on the edge of my seat."

"Did you," he began carefully, "or did you not call me all last August from a blocked number and hang up without speaking?"

He pinned her to the chair with his gaze, and she knew that he fully intended to catch any of her giveaway tells and there was no point in trying to lie to him.

She couldn't bring herself to say it out loud and her silence said it all. Once again, he'd dragged the truth from her whether she liked it or not.  

"Get out. Just get out, Kit!"

"Sure thing. Whatever you want." His hand gesture was one of dismissal, his movements jerking and sarcastic. She gripped her book with white knuckles, itching to chuck it against the door as he retreated.

 

* * *

  
Once Nancy showed Kit the hidden suitcases under one of the cots in the entrance hall he blanked out for a solid five seconds.

Kyler was _right_. Matt had been hiding all along, right under their noses probably. With Matt's luggage missing from the nursery, Kit had assumed he'd taken it with him and left for home. He'd been so sure he left. He would have never...

Matt, the absolute idiot. Did he not know Kyler at all? There were plenty of people who enjoyed a funny practical joke, but there were few people that would take being left at the altar in good stride. Kyler was definitely not one of those people.  

 

* * *

  
Kit was really starting to love these Irish coffees. The brew was strongly caffeinated, the whiskey just enough to start a slow burn in the pit of his stomach.

Kyler sat across from him at the table in the inn. She was still angry, which meant that while she allowed him to accompany her down the street since they were both heading for a drink anyway, she refused to engage in polite conversation. And now they sat in stony silence. Her expression was a challenge, daring him to bring it up again. Kit kept his mouth shut, but he stared right back at her over the rim of his mug. Her eyes held a dangerous freeze that he hadn't seen in a long time. She wouldn't sit at a separate table because then she couldn't punish him with her coldness. He deserved it. Her fiancé was actually missing and he'd been spewing about how wrong they were for each other.

He took a swig, and then she took one. He set his elbow on the table, and her elbow followed shortly after. Very mature.

Rising from the table, he went to splash cold water on his face in the men's room and when he got back he noticed that her mug was now almost empty and didn't sit up as straight anymore.

"What if something happened to him?" she said suddenly, swallowing hard. "Nancy found his glasses in the nursery. He can't see without them. What if he lost his footing out by the cliffs or got stuck somewhere he shouldn't have been, like the bog?"

"If he's still gone by tomorrow morning we'll call the police, get someone else out here to help look for him."

"I—I called his flat a few times. After what you said about him going home."

"Look, I shouldn't have—"

"He didn't answer," she cut him off. "And his voicemail was full, so I don't think he's been there. But his luggage confirms that, I suppose."

Matt's disappearance was beginning to grow more serious. Kyler had abandoned her counterscheme to carry on as normal.

Kit couldn't help himself. He took her hand and she let his fingers wrap around hers. "He'll turn up."

* * *

  
   
DAY FIVE  
When Nancy delivered, she sure as hell _delivered_. Kit could barely keep up with the events that transpired the night before and all of today.

Matt was still here, all right. He'd accidentally discovered a crawlspace behind the fireplace nursery. Intending to play a trick on Kyler he'd hidden inside, only to stumble and fall and realize belatedly that it wasn't a crawlspace after all, it was a tunnel leading underground, into which he had just plummeted. Trapped for days, all he could do was yell for help in the hopes that someone might hear him.

Nancy, upon learning that the castle held such juicy architectural secrets, had spent all night finding her way into those very passages and in doing so had discovered the hidden laboratory that belonged to Kyler's great uncle Brendan Malloy. The same Brendan Malloy that had unintentionally blown a hole in the side of the castle.

As if all that wasn't enough to contend with, it turned out that Brendan Malloy _hadn't_ blown his whole family to smithereens and his five-year old daughter Fiona had, in fact, survived the explosion and been raised by a hermit woman living in a hut across the bog. Fiona was an old woman now, living in the hut by herself, unaccustomed to society and incapable of speech. Kit didn't know what surprised Kyler more, the fact that she had a living relative after all, or the fact that she turned out to be a bog hermit.

It was just one thing right after the other, and the only person seemingly unaffected by it all was Nancy. She acted as if it were just another day of the week. Her eyes were sharp and the ghost of a satisfied smirk played across her features, but beyond that she carried on as if it were the most natural thing in the world to uncover secret tunnels and old women living in bogs. Kit thought she was strange before, but now she seemed like a different species entirely. Perhaps comparing her to the cunning ravens hadn't been so far off.

They'd all stood around the entrance to the tunnel, staring down at Brendan's forgotten laboratory in anticipation as Nancy and Matt began their ascent to freedom. They'd flung a rope down into the lab so they could climb out. Donal's eyes were as big as coins as he surveyed the passages that had been hidden underneath his feet for all these decades. He hadn't known as much about the Malloy estate as he'd thought.

Kit reached out his hand to help pull Nancy up. She made some remark, a lighthearted quip to help break the tension, but Kit couldn't focus on anything she said.  
When Matt finally made his way out of the tunnel Kit clapped a hand on his shoulder, glad that he was safe and feeling idiotic for not realizing sooner that his friend had been in danger.

Matt wrapped Kyler in a thick embrace, his arms smothering her. Donal chattered excitedly to Kit about the lab and lost correspondence that could be down there, containing the missing pieces to the Malloy family history and possibly evidence that could eradicate some long withstanding family scandal.

Kit couldn't help but notice that amongst Matt's effusive declarations of love Kyler expressed her relief at Matt being safe, but failed to reciprocate his outpourings.

 

* * *

  
It hadn’t even been twelve hours and thanks to Donal’s persistent gossip, the pub regulars had already heard of the groom’s disappearance and subsequent recovery.

Finding Fiona Malloy alive had lit the town ablaze with whispers. A mystery solved, a relative discovered, not to mention the safe recovery of the groom, and a wedding back on schedule. Nothing on television could have held their interest so well.

Seamus kept giving Kit sympathetic looks every now and then, almost like he knew exactly what plagued him. It made Kit wonder what else Donal had been flapping his lips about.

He hated to be pitied.

“Anything else I can get you? Anything at all?” Seamus asked.

“You know,” he started, slipping out an empty flask from his coat pocket. There was no liquor anywhere in the castle. He'd checked. “I will pay you any amount of money to fill this sucker up for me.”

 

* * *

  
_You're damn right I pushed you. I pushed you where it mattered. I pushed you to leave the career you hated and pursue your dream. I tried to spark your ambition and I'd do it all over again!_

Kyler could not stop running these words through her mind. Matt's arm lay heavily across her chest like a weight. He slept soundly next to her. The fire in the library crackled and Matt grunted and squeezed her in his sleep.

Matt had moved his things out of the nursery and into the library with Kyler, sending Nancy back downstairs to the entrance hall. By tomorrow the remainder of the empty cots would be filled with guests.

Wide awake, Kyler stared at the rows and rows of books stretching across the shelves. She thought of her own flat and the stacks of books strewn all over her desk, each spine forming a different stripe of color.

Her job was all numbers. Equations and lines on a graph. Sorting figures, problem-solving and analysis. What she longed for was to create with words, to string letters together like delicate garments on a clothesline, to put pen to paper and give some release to her emotions.

_"What are you so afraid of?" Kit asked her. "You want to be a writer more than anything. Let me send something of yours to my friend at the magazine. That guy Matt you've heard me talk about."_

Kyler refused his offer, determined that if she were to do it, she would do it by her own merit alone. No handouts or favors. The day she'd decided to take her first step had been groundbreaking. For a little while, anyway.

She'd told him over dinner at their favorite restaurant. "I've been sending some poems and flash fictions out to a bunch of different papers and two of them stuck. I've just got a letter today that they're going to be printed!"

Excitement bloomed in his eyes. When he leaned across the table to kiss her he tasted like red wine and marinade sauce.  

After dinner they stood at the curb and he shielded her from the cold wind as he looked down the street for a cab to signal. “I knew you could do it,” he said into her hair. “This is only the beginning. You’re gonna take the world by storm.”

She kept hold of his coat on the drive home, urgency in her grip. “God, I love you,” she whispered into his ear. Warm lips on her neck. His fingers slipped over her bare knee where he knew the cab driver couldn’t see.

Months after her stories had been printed, when she’d fought with Kit and demanded her key back from him, Kyler had thrown herself into her previously unfinished novel, finding no other effective distraction. She’d tried writing it on her laptop, but she felt her words had no tangibility being locked up on a digital screen. She wanted to see and feel the pages, she decided, so she borrowed a typewriter from one of her coworkers and relished in the stacks of papers that began to litter her flat, chaotically organized with a rainbow of post-its. This lasted only two weeks, however. She found her words unsatisfying and unfeeling. Unable to tap into the vein of inspiration that she knew dwelled just beneath, everything she wrote came out flat and inexpressive.

She'd been surprised when Kit's friend Matt asked her on a date. _You're broken up, right?_ Wasn't there some sort of friend code that roped off exes with a velvet rope? Evidently not, because there he was, telling jokes and holding a sticky bouquet of carnations. Maybe it was difficult for her to admit that Matt was an obvious choice because it would allow her to keep a closer eye on Kit. Just in case. And then when Kit didn't apologize it became even easier to keep dating Matt. The scattered remnants of her unfinished novel gradually disappeared, tucked away into drawers until there were no pages left.

Now she struggled out from underneath the dead weight of Matt’s arm. He had begun to sweat from their proximity to the fire. Kyler wished she could pop outside but didn’t dare risk walking past Kit in the entrance hall to get there. Her cheeks felt hot from the old memories and her shoulders slumped from guilt.

Anxiety pressed at her from all sides, nervous energy unfolding in her chest like cotton stuffing. Unthinkable thoughts paraded into her consciousness. The rest of the wedding guests were coming soon. Their suitcases were probably sitting packed and snug next to their doorways. They would probably be furious at a cancellation. Traveling was not cheap.

She needed air. Opening the door just a crack, she hurried down the dim hallway and crept as silently as she could down the stairs. When she heard voices she stopped short. Nancy’s husky laughter drifted softly through the entrance hall, and she heard Kit’s low voice follow it.

Kyler stood frozen in the stairway, hidden from view. She heard Nancy speak and this time it was Kit who laughed. She desperately strained her ears but couldn’t make out a word they said. She imagined them hunched over, heads together, forming their own inside jokes that they would exchange via correspondence by email and phone calls and she felt a twist in her gut that had no right to be there.

She was exhausted. The whole day had been spent excavating papers out of the old lab and making calls to get Fiona Malloy situated into a place where she could begin to rehabilitate and be cared for. Kyler couldn't imagine what it had been like for that poor woman to lose her parents so tragically, and to have been alone for so long.

The impending wedding loomed over her like a storm cloud. Out in the entrance, Nancy made him laugh again and Kyler felt another headache come on.

* * *

  
  
DAY SIX  
Telling Matt didn't turn out the way she'd hoped at all. She didn't want to hurt him, but it seemed unavoidable. What had started out as her attempt at a rational conversation was quickly devolving into something ugly with teeth and claws.

Kyler told Matt that while she didn't want to break up, she felt like she needed to put a hold on the wedding. His refusal to understand led him to turn frantic and unrelenting.

"Kyler, you don't have to do this. I've apologized a thousand times for the stupid joke."

"It's not about the joke. Honestly."

"I know I don't deserve you but—"

"This isn't about you. It's not about what _you_ do or don't deserve. For this to work there has to be mutual feelings on both sides."

"And you suddenly don't share these feelings?" he asked incredulously.

She shook her head. "I didn't mean it like that," she amended. "The reality of how short a time we've been dating has been hitting me really hard and I feel like I need some more time before we get married. We did this so...quickly. It's caught up to me. I've had a lot of time to think."

"Oh, you mean while I was missing. Trapped against my will. Trying to get back to you." He looked at her, his expression hard and disapproving. "So good to know that while I'm in mortal danger you're laid up here with your great cozy fire thinking about how you don't want to be with me anymore."

"That's not how it happened."

"I want to know what he said to you."

" _Please_ don't start this. It's not like that. Did you listen to what I just told you?"

"I know he said things to you and I want to know what they were."

"This isn't about him or anything he said, it's about—"

"The hell it isn't!" he interjected. His eyes were darkening like storm clouds. "That asshole's been creeping around, sniffing out for weak spots ever since we arrived! I _knew_ it was a fucking stupid idea to have him here."

"He's our friend, one of _your_ best friends."

"You still love him," he accused. "It's obvious!"

"Don't shout at me," she said to the floor.

He threw his hands in a violent gesture and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of recoiling.

"All I'm asking is that you give me some more time before we revisit the subject of marriage," she said. She wanted to stand up for herself better but the crippling guilt of breaking her word so close to the wedding date made it impossible.

"You're out of your bleeding mind. Who gets engaged and then goes back to dating?"

"Plenty of people," she insisted.

"It's embarrassing. How are we supposed to explain that to our friends? Oh, she said she'd marry me and then she changed her mind but we're just waiting in the meantime to see if she'll change it again! Honestly, I didn't expect you to be so fickle after we've shelled out thousands of pounds and flown hundreds of miles away, I can't believe this."

She swiped her hand across her wet face, hating him in that moment for his insensitivity.

"I'm not ready to get married."

"How can you say that?"

"We've barely even sorted out where we're meant to live, whether we want children or not," she floundered, ticking them off on her fingers, "Your stance on life support; these are major turning points and I think it's bad that we've never spoken about those things once! You—you stepped into this tornado of a wedding vision for us so I followed after you but it went too fast and I completely lost my footing."

"Are you marrying me on Sunday or not?"

"Matt."

"Answer the question. Either you marry me like you told me you would, or it's through."

"You're not going to even acknowledge any of the points I've brought up? Any of my feelings."

"That's not answering the question."

"This isn't a fair choice."

"It's not fair to lead me on this way and hold out at the last second!"

Kyler stared at him in disbelief. "No. I'm not marrying you on Sunday."

He thundered down the stairs with his suitcases and a mouthful of profanity, gracing everyone with a dramatic exit that was mortifying to Kyler. She barreled down the stairs after him but stopped cold in the corridor, not wanting Kit or Nancy or Donal to see here. She leaned against the stone wall, listening to Matt's departure.

"What's going on?" she heard Kit say.

"I don't want to hear a single word out of you," Matt spit. "So help me—"

The door scraped loudly and there were more muffled voices. Kyler tipped her head back against the wall and shut her swollen eyes. They snapped open when she heard footsteps approaching the corridor and she couldn't wipe her face in time before Kit appeared around the corner. She was like a deer in headlights and the intent to wreak havoc upon the departed groom was reflected clearly in his instant glower.

"Don't."

"Kyler—"

"I said don't."

* * *

  
  
DAY SEVEN  
In the end Kyler made all of the phone calls informing the rest of the guests that the wedding was off by herself. Nancy offered to help, of course, but Kyler forced herself through it alone. People were mostly sympathetic but one of the women, the one who had loaned Kyler her typewriter, actually cursed her out. "I cancelled my gym membership this month to be able to afford this bloody plane ticket!" she complained. All Kyler could say was _sorry, I'm so sorry_ like she had to the rest of them.

* * *

  
  
DAY EIGHT  
She hated how pleased Donal seemed, walking around the place with a smug and satisfied smirk. Did he not realize how tactless he was acting? It was no big secret that he and Matt had not gotten along, but he could at least muster up some decency.

Kit, however, appeared terrified of Kyler. It was true enough that she'd been holed up in the library consistently since Matt had left, but the brief times she ventured out he was either nowhere to be found, or skittering off to the side, avoiding eye contact.

She sent Nancy home. She'd been so civil and agreeable throughout the whole affair that it made Kyler feel worse, somehow. From the library, she watched Nancy saying her goodbyes to Kit downstairs through the window and was surprised when Kit smiled and leaned forward to _hug_ Nancy.

They'd clearly gotten to know each other well enough for only having spent three days together bunking in the dining hall. Kyler thought of the same familiarity he had extended to her when she'd met him at university and felt a sharp kick in the chest.

* * *

  
  
DAY NINE  
There was no reason to stay anymore. Her completed checklist glared up at her from the table, mocking her. She'd had a nasty shock earlier when she called the hotel in Venice to cancel their honeymoon reservations and had been politely informed that the reservations had already been cancelled, madam. If Matt had already taken the time to do that, he'd probably already cleared his stuff out of her flat as well. All the better.

There might not have been a reason to stay, she thought, but what was there for her to go home to? A job that she hated and the embarrassment of putting a screeching halt on a wedding clinging to her like film. One less toothbrush in the cup. The other side of her mattress inevitably filling with books and clothes. Out here with the clouds and the cliffs and the sea she didn't have to think about any of that.

As she sat at the fire Kyler heard a knock at the door at some point and she didn't know whether to be surprised that Kit was still there or if she should have known all along. She remained silent and he opened the door anyway.

"I thought you'd be asleep," he said.

She didn't look up, halfheartedly throwing some twigs and tinder into the dying fireplace.

"Seamus made you a sandwich." It was wrapped in wax paper and he set it on the table with her books. The creases were compulsively straight and the edges had been tucked inside and it was so unequivocally Kit's handiwork that she thought it was ridiculous that he was trying to pass it off as Seamus.

Her chin rested in her hands and when the fireplace started to smoke Kit sighed almost imperceptibly and rolled up the cuffs of his sleeves before retrieving a sizeable log from the pile next to the grate. There was a shower of sparks when he threw it in, and he brushed his hands off.

"Look, I know you hate being coddled but you've gotta eat sometime. If you die Donal's going to bury you in the family cemetery out there and then you'll never be rid of him."

"That's not funny."

He made a skeptical noise. "It's a little funny."

Kyler pulled at a loose thread on her sleeve and the log in the fireplace began to ignite from underneath, crackling loudly. "What are you still doing here?"

His shrug wasn't very convincing. "It doesn't seem safe to leave you here in the middle of nowhere by yourself. Especially after all this weird business with hidden tunnels and bog hermits."

"Donal is here."

"Yeah well, I've known Donal for two seconds and I'm not putting too much stock in his ability to handle an emergency."

"And my ability? This is my property."

"You're right, and if you want me out of here I'll go."

She wasn't sure if he'd just called her bluff or what, but she didn't have a response.

"Those guys with the rental company just left. I didn't want to bother you so I just pointed them in the direction of the garden."

Red candlesticks and folding chairs held no interest to her and she said nothing.

"What I said to you the other day out on the cliff, that was out of line. I shouldn't have said it. I mean, I should have said it months ago or not at all."

"I'm not mad at you for telling the truth."

More crackles came from the fireplace and Kyler found herself mesmerized by the orange glow.

"You know what the worst part of this is?" she asked. He said nothing but she could feel him watching her. "I've been trying to work out what this feeling was. The one underneath all this rubbish and I actually felt...I don't know, relief, I guess. When he gave me an ultimatum. Like without the excuse, I wouldn't have known how to end it otherwise. Such a cowardly way to think."

"Maybe. But maybe he never gave you a reason to think you could bring it up fairly. Even so, you didn't deserve for him to blow up like that."

Matt had left his wedding clothes. They hung like a dark shadow in the corner of the library. Handsome gray suit freshly pressed, silk tie flung over the shoulder, red pocket square peeking out the front.

"I don't often wish my parents were still around. But today I wish so fiercely that I had a mother to speak to. Someone who could tell me what to do next." There was a flap of wings and a shadow that passed in front of the library window. Did nothing sleep around here? "Once I asked to postpone the wedding he completely shut down. Wouldn't listen to a word I said. Cursed and stormed."

"He was a real asshole about it."

She scrubbed her hands over her face and pulled her left one away suddenly, training her eyes over the engagement ring. Her face was blank as she pulled it off and set it on the mantel with the automation of a wind-up toy.

"He was right, though! About me being selfish, calling it off this late. All this money we spent."

"Hey." He sounded forceful. "Look at me. If you weren't ready to take that step he doesn't get to bully you into it. He should have respected you, and you know that, Kyler."

"It was the timing."

"Your timing was still a hell of a lot better than it could have been. Think how much worse for the both of you if you'd gone through with it and _then_ realized it wasn't what you wanted. Much worse. And I'm not telling you anything that you don't already know. You're just a little lost right now. We all get lost sometimes. Look, Matt likes to throw temper tantrums, but if you wait for everything to cool off I'm sure—"

"No. Not after how he spoke to me. That's all I care to see of his true colors."

She stared at the fire for a long time before he left and when she looked up she saw that he had taken Matt's suit with him. He could chuck it off the cliff into the ocean for all she cared.

 

* * *

  
Kyler slammed down the receiver in the phone booth outside of the Screaming Banshee. She picked it up and slammed it down again for good measure. It didn't help. Her blood boiled and she took a strike at the plexiglass window.

She'd just listened to a slew of messages. Mutual friends of hers and Matt's, ones that she hadn't spoken to yet. And they were all talking about the broken engagement. Rambling messages left, all "tough luck, Ky" and, "bloody shame, that is," and "chin up!" _Can't believe the news, Kyler, why didn't you ring me up? Good riddance if you ask me, you two were an odd match._ Even worse were the ones offering to set her up with someone new. _I know this fantastic guy in accounting with the greatest bum you've ever seen. He collects stamps and I think you'd get on fabulously._

He'd told everybody. Everybody they knew. She wrung her hands together. Did he just sit down with his address book and go down the list? There were few things she valued more than her privacy, and he'd strewn the messy details out like rubbish in the street for all to see. He knew how much she would hate that they all heard it from someone else first and he'd done it anyway. Worse, it sounded as if they all thought she's the one who'd been dumped. Who knows how he'd spun it?

Anger dwelled restlessly on her heart, a rowdy unfamiliar tenant that replaced her misery.

It was warm outside and she felt prickles of sweat on the back of her neck. The anger clutched her insides and she burst into the Screaming Banshee with electricity. When she marched straight up to the bar Seamus spotted her and looked surprised for a split second before composing his face into something normal again.

"What a treat to see you today, Kyler," he said. She could feel the regulars side-eyeing her. In a place as isolated as this one, everyone knew.

There was a grand-looking bottle proudly on display behind the counter with some indistinguishable bird on the front of it and she pointed her finger straight at it.

"I want one of those."

Seamus almost tripped in his haste to grant the jilted bride's request, uncapping the bottle and pouring out a generous shot's worth into a glass.

When she lifted it to her lips she vaguely registered a line of flannel-clad men with wiry beards lift their own glasses in acknowledgement with a solemn nod and took swigs of their own along with her. A sort of morose 'cheers' and she felt a sudden kinship with these strangers that she'd only known for nine days but treated her with greater respect than her own fiancé.

The liquor was expensive so it didn't hurt going down but shit, she felt the effects almost immediately. It's exactly what she'd wanted. Seamus would add it to her tab and she slid off of the barstool with a gruff, "Thanks."

Kyler left the inn and focused all of her energy on walking. She focused on the breeze and the gray sky and the tendrils of grass, grateful for the long walk back to the castle. She'd been in the library too long and opted for her beautiful garden. It was almost worth sleeping in the entrance hall just to be able to see it through the crumbling stone of the missing wall section. Good thing Kit had all the wedding things removed or she didn't think she could bear going down there.

She felt light and tipsy and the urge to do something impulsive slammed into her.

When she spotted Kit entering the castle with a man in denim trousers and a tool belt she felt a flutter of panic, remembering the condo sketches. She strode after them and pulled heavily on the castle door. They stood in the entrance hall gesturing to the missing section of wall.

"What the devil is this?" she asked.

Kit whirled. "There you are, I—" he stopped, confused. "Whoa, are you okay? This is Shane Gilroy, he's here to assess the property damage. Give us a minute, Shane, the busted stairs I was telling you about are up that way."

The man offered his hand to Kyler but when she didn't take it he shuffled upstairs. "He's just a contractor," Kit explained. "I know you're dying for access to that third floor and I called in some favors to get an estimate. You don't have to make any commitments, this is just to give you an idea of what you're looking at if you decide to make renovations later on and are you drunk?"

"It's very likely."

"Don't go wandering around any cliffsides. I'm gonna—" he gestured upstairs.

 

* * *

  
  
DAY TEN  
It was just past midnight and Kyler bumped directly into Kit as she came out of the kitchen. White-faced and with hair sticking up wildly, he placed a hand on his chest as if his heart might leap out of his chest unbidden.

"Fuck. We were looking everywhere. You know I was just kidding about the cliffside but then nobody knew where you went...It doesn't matter, though."

"You thought I might plummet facefirst into the unforgiving depths of the sea."

"Of course not," he said, embarrassed. "That isn't funny."

"It's a little funny." Kyler stepped out of the kitchen into the blanket of night air. She could see the smooth straight line of the sea at the edge of the horizon. The reflection of the moon cast a silvery stripe that stretched across the water toward them, reaching. "Do you suppose Seamus is still open?"

He shook his head as they walked around to the front of the castle. "No, it's all locked up for the night. But I've got you covered." Reaching into his breast pocket, he offered a silver flask but she hesitated and declined.

"I'd better not."

He uncapped it and took a swig for himself, following her inside. It was dark; the fire needed another log and after he tossed one in Kyler saw his suitcases, packed and ready to go at the end of his cot. His office paperwork and leaky pens were cleared off the table, shirts folded and tucked away.

"You're leaving."

"Yeah, uh, tomorrow." Kit stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I should have left a long time ago. I just needed to know that you were okay, and...I dunno. I should have left when Nancy did."

"Get along well, did you?"

He seemed confused and didn't say anything and Kyler moved to stand next to the fire.

"Anyway, I'm sorry for hovering around for so long. You need space."

"Is that what I need?"

"Well, I don't know. I'm assuming. Look, are you mad at me?"

"What would I have to be mad at?"

He blew out a breath. "How am I supposed to know? You were fine until you saw my suitcases and now you're doing that thing where you answer questions with more questions when you're pissed off." Silence. "Do you want me to stay?"

"I'm sure you have to get back to work."

He gave a sardonic laugh. "Work. That's not it. They're fine without me for now. I have an inside connection, you know."

She didn't laugh.

"What can I do?" he asked. "You want something and you're going to have to tell me what it is."

"It's not that simple."

"Then make it simple. Don't overthink the implications of it, just say it."

"Forget it."

"Stop!" She'd moved away from the heat of the fireplace to depart up the stairs but he gripped her arm. Warm fingers through the fabric of her blouse. "Tell me what you want and I'll do it. You want me to go back home? You want to tell me to quit my job and live in this castle with you herding sheep? Fight me, scream at how this is all my fault? Fuck me? Use me? Whatever it is, Kyler, say it and get it over with."

Her hand lifted of its own accord to slap him for the vulgarity and arrogance, that he was so certain she was holding something back. She recovered her temper at the last instant and instead dug her fingers into his shirtfront, kissing him fast and purposefully.

He didn't act surprised at her behavior, moving his hands to all the right places, tipping her chin, stroking her hair, falling into the easy pace they used to know so well. The hearth crackled and he broke away first, catching hold of her roving fingers and pressing them to his mouth and Kyler was struck by just how _depressed_ he looked in that moment.

"Don't tease me," he said raggedly. "Not about this. I'm not a good enough man to put a stop to it, to be the rational one."

"What about this could be construed as rational?" Her laughter had a twinge of hysteria. "I _just_ called off my wedding and all of these conflicted feelings are shooting around and I'm going out of my bloody mind and if I have to be reminded of it any longer I'm going to have a nervous breakdown." Kit smelled like bar soap from the inn and he still gripped her hand. She waited for him to kiss her.

"You have to be the one to do it." His dark hair fell in front of his forehead.

She leaned up and kissed his neck, leaving a feather-light trail up his jawbone and to his mouth. He hesitated for a long time, so long that she almost pulled away. When he kissed her back it was languid. He slid her sleeve down and pressed his mouth against her bare shoulder exactly the way he used to and she felt the light scrape of his teeth. Feeling a bit like she had been plugged into an electrical socket, she kissed him again, harder, and this time there was no small amount of desperation poured into it from either side. Her hand reached underneath his shirt and up his back.

"Kyler," he breathed, maneuvering them backwards and dropping to the cot as if his knees wouldn't hold him up anymore.

"Not here," she said against his lips and she wondered if he could sense her palpable relief at something familiar, something she had missed. Something she hadn't wanted to admit she missed.

She tore away from him to race up the stairs and he tugged her arm so she came crashing back into his embrace. Laughter, struggling up the steps. A loud echoing clank as they bumped into a suit of armor in the upstairs hallway. Kit curled his arm around her waist and wrapped his other hand around the back of her neck in the way he knew that she liked. She caught his lip in between her teeth and yes, he still liked that too.

"Fuck, this is probably a bad way to handle this."

"Oh, it's terrible," she agreed, dragging his head back down to hers. "Bloody irresponsible."

"Mhmm." He kissed her throat and all the way down past the neckline of her shirt. "Impulsive."

"Right." She failed to stifle a gasp at his wandering mouth. Her hand was on the latch to the library door. How could she explain? Explain that she didn't know what this meant, that she was aching for companionship without attached strings. That maybe she should spend time alone before jumping into another relationship, but she still wanted him right now, desperately. "Kit. I'm not sure what you're going to read into this—"

"I'm not." The door shut behind them.  
 


End file.
